


touching you, touching me

by their_dark_materials



Category: Emmerdale, robron
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Missing Scene, Porn With Plot, Skype Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/their_dark_materials/pseuds/their_dark_materials
Summary: Aaron knows that look, has seen it a million times. Never imagined he’d glimpse it like this though, trapped in a hotel room in Malta with adult chickenpox of all things.Upstairs. Now.Or, Aaron and Robert have Skype sex.





	touching you, touching me

He notices it immediately, of course. It’s hard to focus on anything else when Robert’s bare chest is staring him in the face. The angle of the laptop camera reveals he’s currently lying on his side on their bed, not a stitch on besides those navy blue boxer-briefs he loves so much, his sole choice of sleepwear for the long summer weeks.

Aaron bites his lip, watches as the image on screen suddenly shifts sideways, Robert tugging the laptop up and closer to his face; blonde lashes still flecked with the warm haze of sleep, freckles too many to count.

Sighing inwardly, he leans back against the hotel bed headboard, wishing, not for the first time today, that he was sitting back home. Because at least then he could reach out and touch him, kiss the drowsiness off his face. Frowning, Aaron kicks his legs out in front of him, a sullen form of protest, chickenpox-covered shins gliding across sweat-dampened sheets a stark reminder of why he isn’t. His next sigh comes out more of a huff.

“Thought _I_ was supposed to be the one on holiday,” he grumbles lightly in greeting, reaching up to scratch yet another itch on his shoulder. “How come _you’re_ the one with a tan?”

Robert smiles and rolls his eyes, the benefit of a good night’s sleep.

“Blame Doug,” he explains, looking down to the examine the muscular cut of his own arm. “Spilled some of his special ‘homemade manure’ on my last clean shirt when he came to work on the back garden yesterday. Spent most of the day practically naked.”

Aaron nods, lets his eyes drift reluctantly downward, gaze lingering in silent appreciation. He’s not sure if he wants to curse Doug or thank him. He keeps going back and forth.

“So, how’s that going then?” He asks, an attempt to play nice as he wills himself to look back up at Robert’s face. “Operation Distract Doug from Diane?”

He’s instantly met with a smile turned smug, Robert clearly more than pleased with himself. 

“Hardly suspects a thing,” Robert informs him proudly, pleased at a plan being executed well. “Helps keep Liv out of trouble too. We’re actually meeting at the cafe later. So we can discuss her plans for the summer.”

Aaron hums and nods absentmindedly, distracted by the same itch’s stubborn return, having since travelled a few centimetres below his reach. He closes his eyes and attempts to rub his back on the leather padding behind him, hoping the friction will provide some much-needed relief.

It doesn’t. The tiny niggle just migrating further down south, making a home just below his left shoulder blade instead.

He huffs in frustration, raises his arm, and angles it _just_ so. Another desperate attempt at scratching.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Robert’s gone still: jaw fallen slack, even as his eyes are visibly glassy. Aaron would gripe at him, call him out if he could, but he’s got something a little more urgent to deal with.

Arching his back upward and outward, he twists his left hand as best as he can, fingers slipping and sliding past his wet collar, clawing their way down his back, to that little bit of irritation that’s been annoying him all afternoon.

But he still can’t quite reach it, the sweat-drenched fabric of his t-shirt getting in his way.

With a grunt of frustration, he takes off his top and tosses it aside, renewing his efforts once more. Some determined manoeuvring later, his blunt nails hit the spot, eyes clamping shut as he furiously scratches, letting out a long groan of relief.

Mission accomplished, he finally straightens his back, settling himself against the headboard. The leather’s still warm from his skin. He slowly reopens his eyes.

When he drags the laptop closer, he can see that Robert’s barely moved, his only action having been to take his bottom lip between his teeth and bite into it, gaze now alert and never wavering.

Aaron knows that look, has seen it a million times. Never imagined he’d glimpse it like this though, trapped in a hotel room in Malta with adult chickenpox of all things.

_Upstairs. Now._

“Really?” He groans, torn between incredulity and arousal. “Even now? Lookin’ like this?”

He gestures tiredly at the rest of his blister-covered body, still red and a little achy despite a few days of religiously taken medication and generously applied anti-itching gel.

“Oh, _especially_ like this,” Robert replies, a lazy smile spreading on his lips. He runs his eyes down the length of Aaron’s now-naked chest to rest meaningfully on his underwear-covered lap, before coming up to look in him the eye again. Then he shrugs, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. “I told you. I’m never going to stop wanting you.”

That smile’s turned full-blown cheeky now, pulling at the corners of Robert’s bite-reddened lips just like Aaron loves. _God_ , he’s missed that mouth.

Off camera, his cock twitches in agreement.

Aaron licks his lips, imagines taking Robert’s in his, his bearded cheeks growing steadily hotter.

Only his eyes flick downward, and he catches a glimpse of himself, reflected back in that tiny window at the edge of the screen. His bare chest is now paler courtesy of the smeared-on lotion, his skin a mess of scar and spots.

His blood starts to cool. He shakes his head. There’s no way Robert’s sentiment can be real.

At least not right now. Not like this. Not while his limbs still feel lined with lead, with a general ache reaching deep into his bones. He sniffs in rejection, another whiff of stale air, the room smelling dully of that blackcurrant and vanilla cream Robert had shipped all the way over from London, a get well present meant to help heal faster.

(He’d actually gone half hard when he’d read the note, a confidently scrawled: _Thought I’d give you a hand ;)_ But then again, his dick’s always been his husband’s biggest fan.)

But looking back at the screen, he sees the challenging glint in Robert’s eyes still persists, gazing back at him from where he’s currently sprawled on their bed; hair still flat and unstyled and begging for errant fingers, mouth cocked in that same shit-eating grin.

Now it’s Aaron’s turn to roll his eyes. A mood coming on him like a storm.

He frowns and shifts in his seat, swipes at the sweat lining his brow.

“Go on then,” he growls, nodding sulkily. “Prove it.”

Robert stares back, blinks a few times, before raising a blonde eyebrow in surprise. But Aaron just doubles down, continues holding his gaze. His own version of a silent dare.

It earns him another one of Robert’s slow smiles, the realisation starting to sink in. He watches as Robert slides back up against their headboard and lays back against their pillows; tan skin and freckles popping against the dark purple sheets, the midday sun turning already sun-kissed skin a warm honeyed gold.

But it isn’t until he lies back and spreads both legs wide, that Aaron’s eyes are sharply drawn downward, his breath catching in his throat. Because pushing against the front of Robert’s underwear is a more than sizeable bulge — the kind that’s been there for a while.

Aaron can feel his jaw drop. But he doesn’t care. Too busy wishing he were there right now, lips trailing wet kisses all down Robert’s sweat-salted body, his mouth immediately running dry.

Before he can even say anything — his tired mind struggling to joke about his husband’s dramatic need to put himself on display at all times — Robert brings one of his large hands down, confidently palming himself; long strokes up and down his length, the beginnings of a damp spot near the tip.

Aaron swallows roughly, his heart starting to race, his imagining that it’s him reaching out and rubbing Robert, the weight of him warm and heavy in his hand; Robert hissing in his ear as he gives him a firm squeeze.

When he opens his eyes again, breath slightly shuddering, Robert’s smiling at him as if he’d read his thoughts. Judging by the way he looks at him sometimes, Aaron really wouldn’t put it past him.

Robert’s voice is a low murmur between shallow breaths, hand continuing its slow and steady movement. “This good enough for you?”

Aaron opens his mouth like somehow he’s considering it. Even though they both know he’s clearly not.

(Maybe a few days ago, it would have been. But that was before he’d gotten trapped here indefinitely, constantly flushed and irritated, with an entirely different itch forming under his skin.)

He continues to watch as Robert rubs at himself, lower lip back between his teeth, and he’s suddenly sure it won’t cut it anymore. So he lets him know as much, voice raspy with want.

“Thought I told you to prove it.”

It’s like he’s said the magic words, because Robert all but freezes, sits there staring at him, with his hand just lying across his stiff and hardened length.

The moment soon passes, and he’s flashing Aaron of his signature smirks,a hot sun rising up for the dawn. He lifts his hips and strips himself naked in one rapid motion, blue fabric giving way to the stretch of pale and freckled skin underneath.

Aaron wants to roll his eyes at the unnecessary showmanship of it all, but all thoughts fly out the window, too captivated by the way Robert’s head springs free, his erection bobbing in the air just a little.

He licks his lips, and watches Robert settle back down, surprised at how much harder he is than anticipated. That glimmer of wetness now more than a little slick, his cock already leaking.

As they lock eyes once more, Robert starts to tease his head, thumb and forefinger slowly rubbing at the sides, before gently tugging up just a little, making his own breath hitch as he does so.

Almost half a second later, Aaron starts to stiffen, an automatic response to the memory of Robert’s warm breaths on his shaft, smooth hands kneading his thighs, wet mouth busy licking and kissing and licking.

His breaths are already starting to grow heavy, when he sees Robert spit in his hand, before bringing it back down to wrap around his cock, moving from base back to the tip, firm strokes setting up a nice and easy rhythm.

The whole time, Robert’s eyes never leave Aaron’s face, even though his hips begin to roll with the pace, his breath slowly turning ragged. “Believe me now?”

Aaron’s pulse starts to race at the sight, his cock only growing harder. He slides a stray hand into his own underwear, fingers desperately rubbing and cupping, before he just eventually whips it out, his hand pushing his waistband out of the way, the elastic pressing against the back of his wrist. 

“‘spose it’ll do,” he finally answers in a bit of a gruff pant, his own cock now on full display.

He bites back a grin as Robert’s eyes darken and the smirk slips off his face, leaving him lying there blinking, hand clutched tight around his erection.

Eager to finally push him over the edge, Aaron brings his right hand up to his mouth, sucking at his middle finger, the taste of his own sweat salty on his tongue. For a moment he pretends that it’s Robert, swirls his tongue for good measure, before releasing it with an audible _suck_.

Reaching back down, he grabs hold of himself, taking a moment to savour his own thickness. He starts moving in long, hard strokes, pressure building as he reaches the tip. Pausing briefly, he swipes at his already-wet head, kicking out with a groan as a thrum of pleasure shoots through him.

The sound of his voice seems to jumpstart Robert, eyes still not leaving Aaron’s as he starts moving once again; pumping and panting rapidly increasing in pace.

“Miss you,” Robert whispers, words rushed out amidst jagged breaths.

Aaron nods absentmindedly, in the middle of a downward pull, groans a stretched out, “ _You too_.”

Back on screen, Robert seems to be coming apart at the seams; hand stroking frantically as his legs stretch out and his toes curl in, hips lifting off the bed and pushing up into his fist.

He comes a second later, cock hot and pulsing, just the word “Aaron” lingering on his lips.

Finally sated, and more than pleased with himself, Robert settles back on the bed, panting as he comes down from his high; hand still wrapped around his fading erection.

It’s that image of him — head tipped back, hand dripping come, nothing on but his wedding ring — that sends Aaron barrelling towards his own climax, pressure building low in his belly as his hand moves faster and faster. Moments later he comes with a cry, spilling atop his own stomach.

 _In sickness and in health_.

It’s as he lays there, trying to catch his breath, a blissed-out calm settling on his mostly naked limbs, that he hears it: Robert’s laughter, light and raspy, and somehow far sexier than it has any right being.

In his hand, his cock seemingly twitches, as if already ready for another round. He ignores it, half-smiling up at the camera instead, purposely not lifting a finger to clean himself off. “What?”

Robert’s grin is now wider than ever — even if he’s also a sprawled out mess himself. “Think I definitely proved my point.”

Before Aaron can form a retort, Robert’s phone buzzes on his bedside table, drawing both their attention to it. He watches as Robert wipes his hand on their sheets, before reluctantly moving to check it. For once, Aaron holds his tongue, too loosened out to grumble.

Whatever he reads turns his lips into a frown, his brow furrowing in bafflement.

“It’s Doug,” Robert finally reads out, rolling his eyes. “Wants to know if he should finally try an Americano.”

Before Aaron can stop himself, laughter tumbles out, lighter and fizzier than he’s been feeling all week. It’s bolstered by the pointed annoyance on Robert’s face, an unexpected side effect of his plan. Shaking his head, Robert texts Doug back, phone held close to his still-tanned chest, elbows tucked in as per usual. 

The only sign of what they’ve just done, is the state of him now, still tall and tanned and very, _very_ naked.

 _That settles it_ , Aaron decides, smiling at the screen. He’s definitely buying Doug that present.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is probably the most nervous I've ever been posting anything, as this is my first ever foray into smut. Hopefully, it does the characters justice, while being as sexy as I would hope it to be. The main idea was to show how much Robert wants Aaron despite anywhere, anyhow, while also comforting Aaron when he's feeling at his least sexiest. (That and I find it hard to believe these two wouldn't have indulged in copious rounds of Skype sex during their recent holiday apart.) 
> 
> Not sure how I stuck the ending on this, but I really can't stop myself from a good Doug joke. In any case, any and all feedback would be much appreciated, pretty sure I melted my brain in the many stages of writing this. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns, come find me over on tumblr under @rustandruin, otherwise, just drop me a line below. Thanks fo reading!


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